Sundered Loyalties
by Eryntar
Summary: Draco Malfoy wasn't the only underage Death Eater. Once, the Nott Twins' lives had been quiet. Their father had hidden them away from the ideologies of the Death Eaters, committed to raising them alone after his wife's death. But upon the return of his Master, things changed. Spies are needed to infiltrate Hogwarts, and the Order itself. Who best to do it than its very students?


**AN: So guys, I have to admit, I have been plagued by Harry Potter plot bunnies. Which explains this short prologue/taste of my newest fic. Hope you all enjoy, and with a new (slightly easier) semester beginning, I should have more time to write. Enjoy :)**

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 _August 14th, 1998_

I felt like I was going to be sick.

My insides were caving in on themselves, clenching and contorting as if my stomach were a wrung out sponge. A strange fire was climbing its way up my esophagus, bringing along with it a burning behind my eyes that I just couldn't escape. And my head, my head was spinning and faltering and turning in on itself as I surveyed the scene in front of me for the hundredth time.

Silver-grey wallpaper, splayed with an elegant ivy design in charcoal. Numerous bookshelves crammed with centuries old tomes, leather spines peeling and fading away into nothingness. A plush, Turkish carpet, upon which I was kneeling, knees scraped and bleeding. And the portraits, the portraits just wouldn't stop screaming.

Lucius Malfoy sat slumped in an elegant, high backed chair, facing an ancient rosewood desk and away from me. The quill that he'd been writing letters with just moments ago now lay upon the fine plush carpet, black ink slowly seeping into the off-white threads, forming a large dark stain that nearly looked like blood. _Blood_. My stomach heaved again, and I had to close my eyes against the image. I faintly realized that my hands were shaking.

They would be upstairs within seconds now. I just knew it. No one could ignore the ghastly shrieks emanating from these damned portraits for very long. They stared down in horror at the sight, tearing out that same platinum blonde hair, shrieking out curses, calling for some kind of help, any help, even though it was too late. Every single accusation they uttered grated upon my senses and I winced against it, covering my ears with sweaty palms. I just wanted them to stop. I wanted everything to just stop.

But that would be impossible now, and I could tell from the pounding footsteps three floors below that I could somehow hear that all hell was going to break loose in approximately two minutes. They would find me, and then they would see the body, and the accusing portraits, and the lack of blood upon the beautiful Turkish rug, and they'd know.

Perhaps I could convince them that I didn't mean to do it. Perhaps I could convince them that he had attacked me first, and that I'd only acted out of self defense. There wasn't enough anger, and certainly not enough cruelty in me to perform such a curse. Was there?

Another option would be to convince them that it was merely a stunning spell gone wrong, or that I'd found him dead already, or that I'd caught an assassin at the tail end of his job, seconds before he could apparate away. Maybe they'd believe that the portraits weren't _accusing_ me, that they were merely yelling for help because I too had been injured, that they were only pointing at me or cursing because they too wanted Lucius dead and I had nearly saved him.

I'd say anything, despite how far-fetched it might be, to convince them that _I_ wasn't the assassin caught at the tail end of her job. Anything.

I opened my eyes once again to survey Lucius's body, and knew immediately that they wouldn't buy either excuse for a second. He was facing away from me, of course, and there had been no sign of a struggle, hell, it was obvious that he had never even known of my presence in the first place. How else could he look so serene, so languid, as if he were just taking a moments rest from an afternoon of letters? Maybe if I just moved the body...

And then I heard them, footsteps right outside the door. It opened on silent hinges, and I felt a rush of cool air slap across my back.

"Vic-" immediately, his voice was cut off by a painful mixture between a gasp and a choke. The footsteps rushed forward, and I could feel his presence looming over me, than kneeling next to me, cautious as if he were approaching a wild animal. I felt his eyes as they tried to seek out my own, but I just couldn't. I couldn't let Theodore, my own twin brother for Salazar's sake, see the guilt in my eyes, because he, alone of all people, would be able to recognize it instantly.

Another body entered the room, and from where I knelt I could feel the tense energy flowing off of him. The portraits silenced, hushed out like a candle by a strong gust of wind. For a long moment, he did not move from his position at the doorway. He didn't even speak, merely stood and stared as that tense energy became so palpable I could taste it, like iron, upon my tongue. I couldn't bear to turn around and face him, fearing whatever expression that might be on his face, whether it be one of rage or disbelief or even glee.

Our impenetrable barrier of silence lasted far too long for comfort. My mind was racing with the possibilities, of all the different ways he could react upon facing his obviously cursed father. Honestly, I had a distinct feeling that it would end in a flash of green.

"Victoria..." His voice was low, and it strained against his throat as if it were lined with spikes.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to - he just - I can't -" I sputtered, feeling as that fire in my esophagus intensified and morphed into a harsh sob, "I can't." The tears were now flowing freely down my face. Theo made no attempt to wipe them away.

Maybe it was because he knew. Both of them did. Nothing but lies were escaping my lips, and yet I kept blubbering them out, and they kept accepting them, and there were no green flashes or binding hexes or any other words except for my own.

We all knew that it was a lie. That I had meant to do it, heart and soul.

You can't perform an Unforgivable Curse any other way.

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 **AN: Interesting... My love for writing twins will never die. I've got quite a few big ideas for this fic involving Death Eaters and general darkness, so stay tuned! For those who are looking for an update on my LOTR fic, _Lament of the Dunedain,_ don't worry! I've got the thirteenth chapter going right now, and will hopefully have it out in a bit. I'm going to be committing myself to writing both of these. Thanks for reading :)**


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